Silent Skies
by Aha-Terre
Summary: Enrico never died. But the Vongola's hands are stained beyond measure, and there has only ever been one who could possibly wipe them clean. AU, gen-ish, eventual powerful!Tsuna.
1. Chapter 1

******EDIT 5/11/2012: Oh my god, I can't believe I just left an unfinished sentence in the middle for so long. I feel mortified. Fixed now!**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape or form own the manga _Katekyo Hitman_ _Reborn!_** **If you haven't, please support the author Amano Akira by reading and purchasing her works!**

**Summary: Enrico never died. But the Vongola's hands are stained beyond measure, and there has only ever been one who could possibly wipe them clean.  
**

* * *

_Silent Skies_

_Chapter One  
_

* * *

The day was an important one at the Vongola Mansion. The servants had started to go about their business before the sun had even peeked over the horizon, hurrying through halls as silently yet as quickly as they could. There was much to prepare for the evening.

The plans for the grand event had been in place for months, but the kitchens were still a swirling mess of barely contained panic, furious shouts and wildly swinging meat cleavers. To an outsider it would have appeared to be utter chaos, but the Vongola chefs were the best of the best. There was no doubt that everything would be ready when it was called for.

The main hall had been utterly invaded by a force of black and white clad maids, mops and dusters in hand. The entire estate was to be spotless, but this room was to be the focus of the event and so had to exceed all expectations. Every rug was to be cleaner than the day it was made, every vase more polished than a mirror.

Despite the copious amounts of planning that the day had demanded, the evening's entertainment had been quite hastily booked only a few hours before. The Three Swiss Chocolatiers were still en route from Zurich, and their plane was projected to land with mere minutes to spare.

Well it was the Vongola Heir's birthday. He was allowed to be a little… changeable.

* * *

The first of the party guests began arriving at 8 o'clock sharp. They were the weakest of the Vongola's allies, the most easily intimidated. They were too afraid to dark risk even the smallest of slights against one of the most powerful mafia famiglias in the world.

Ushered into the massive ballroom, a few could not keep from gawking for a moment at the splendor. The Vongola Mansion was an ancient and stunning monument to the famiglia's power, but was not often welcoming to visitors of their caliber. Most had never seen the inside of the Vongola stronghold before.

Half of the early arrivals headed straight for the buffet, while the others clustered in the darker, dustier corners of the cavernous room.

Next came the slightly more influential famiglias, those who hovered between the bottom feeders and the upper echelon, never quite sure about what lines they could and could not afford to cross. Most had decided to come late as a show of power; to demonstrate they were not afraid of their ally.

It was a bluff that was easily seen through, but no one bothered to point it out. The Vongola heir had long ago decided that most of them were not worth the effort.

The clock ticked on. After half an hour the already gathered members began to murmur nervously to each other, clustering in small tight circles around the edges of the cavernous room. No one dared to linger in the brightly lit centre. Thy were all well aware of the dangers of standing exposed in a fellow mafioso's home.

A full hour passed, and the guests were starting to get decidedly twitchy when they heard the dull roar that signalled the next wave of cars.

These arrivals were the most powerful, the most influential of the Vongola's allies. They had attended many gatherings at the Mansion before and knew they would attend many more. They understood perfectly what was expected of them – and arriving early was not one of them.

While the others in this last group made their way out of their cars and leisurely sauntered towards the grand entrance, a single shadow broke away from the crowd and confidently made his way towards a smaller door, half hidden in the shadows caused by the mansion's lights.

The figure slipped through and quickly found his way down the empty corridor.

The hallway was smaller, almost cramped, usually only used by the household servants. The corridor ran the entire length of the manner, looking so completely uniform that most outsiders got decidedly confused when they attempted to navigate it. But he had walked this path before, and knew exactly where he was going.

Stopping at the eleventh door to the right, the man paused, pressed a hand to his pocket as if to reassure himself, then knocked.

"Come in," Came the response from the other side of the door.

The man admitted himself into the room quietly. He gave a cursory glance around him – the lavish decorations of that particular waiting room had long since ceased to impress him – before approaching the only other man in the room.

"Good evening Ciro," The man spoke, admiring his reflection in the mirror. He didn't turn around to fully acknowledge the other's presence, which usually would have been a sign of trust between two Mafioso. One of the biggest rules of survival in their world was to never turn your back to anyone. But the mirror was carefully angled to give the man an unobstructed view of the entrance, and a handgun rested on the table just before him. A mafia boss did not survive by being careless.

"Good evening," Ciro replied, bowing his head briefly as a sign of respect. "You look handsome as ever, Decimo."

"Flattering snake as always," The man quipped, but preened himself a little to his reflection anyways. "Are all the guests here?"

"All the important ones."

"Excellent," He turned on the heel of one polished boot to finally face Ciro, plucking the gun of the desk as he did so. "Time to make my grand entrance then."

"Before you do," said Ciro quickly, stepping forward quickly. He didn't grab the Decimo to stop him – Ciro didn't have a death wish – but fortunately for him the Decimo deigned to pause.

Ciro took the chance and fell to one knee. "I present this gift to you on behalf of the Estrano family, to reinforce our alliance, future Vongola Decimo."

The Decimo took the proffered box, weighed it in the palm of his hand, and smirked. "Your continuing loyalty is recognized," He acknowledged.

"And now I believe it's time we made our grand entrance, don't you agree?" Ciro bobbed his head in agreement – who would say no to this man? – and fell in step a discreet distance behind him. The Vongola Decimo shared the spotlight with no one.

They swept out the door and quickly emerged onto the majestic grand staircase. Alone, the Vongola Decimo strode into the brightly lit centre and raised his arms high in greeting. The hall fell silent, all eyes immediately drawn to the lone figure looking down on them all.

There was a beat of silence. Then as one, the mass of party guests raised their glasses to the man a sea of sparkling glass. "_**Happy sixteenth birthday, Enrico!**_"

And Enrico, eldest son of the Nono and heir to the Vongola _famglia_, gave the hall an arrogant smile.

* * *

The first attempted assassination of Tsunayoshi Sawada occurred when he was six.

The astonishing thing was not that such a young child was being targeted, but that he had not been targeted sooner. It was a testament to the obstinacy of Iemitsu Sawada that no one had discovered their location for so long.

But even the most carefully guarded secrets cannot be withheld from interested parties forever. Anything could be bought for the right price; that was one of the founding ideologies of the black market.

And that was how three fledgling hitmen of a fallen mafia _famiglia_ found themselves stalking a little boy on the first day he was allowed to walk to school alone.

One of the men felt a pang of remorse for what they had to do as he watched the child, small even for his age, plod along the path to Namimori Elementary. He was so young, so clearly untainted by the world of crisp suits and bloodstains and bullets.

But he had little choice in the matter. His Family had fallen into disgrace a decade ago, robbed of all they had by a single deal gone bad. Suddenly seen as weak and useless by their allies, they had been cast down from the upper circles, forced to fight against the other lower, less dignified _famiglias_ for a chance at staying afloat.

But the esteem, the influence that could be gained from killing Iemitsu Sawada's child… The man had many enemies amongst the mafia, enemies whom would pay a great deal for the corpse of the Young Lion of the Vongola's son. From what his Boss had told him, their informant happened to be one of them.

So when is compatriots snapped the ammunition for their guns into place with an audible _click_, there was no hesitation as he did the same. Tsunayoshi Sawada had to die for the greater good.

They slipped quietly out of their alleyway, began approaching the brown-haired boy just as he turned the corner and-

"Herbivores who disturb the peace of Namimori will be bitten to death."

Foolish, foolish men. They had not realized that, even at seven, Kyoya Hibari was not someone to be crossed.

* * *

When he had finished and the three men lying bloody and broken on the sidewalk, Hibari carefully wiped his miniature tonfas clean and stepped away. Once his attention was suitably diverted elsewhere, a small group of children with black hair already beginning to curl unnaturally on their foreheads scurried out to retrieve the fallen victims. With little regard for their comfort the children began to drag the bodies away – they knew exactly how to dispose of Hibari's victims.

Not paying any attention to the actions of his subordinates, for he trusted them enough to take care of at least this menial task, Hibari jogged ahead to see what had befallen the original target.

One corner, two and – ah, there he was. Hibari paused and watched the lone figure scurry past the entrance to Namimori Elementary. The boy was fortunate. He had made it with mere seconds to spare.

Something was off, Hibari noted. There was something that the herbivore should have, something that he instinctively knew was missing…

The nervous smile. The wide, innocent eyes. _He wasn't afraid_.

The foolish herbivore, Hibari realized. _He didn't notice._

The first emotion he felt was derisiveness. Only the most pathetic of herbivores would fail to notice that they were being stalked by cold-blooded killers.

But in his eyes was the smallest spark of interest. Tsunayoshi Sawada – what was he doing to attract such disturbers of Namimori's peace?

Perhaps he would ask.

* * *

Despite Hibari's suspicions, Tsuna had done nothing to get hitmen sent after him. Nothing he was aware of anyways.

Although he almost never got to see his family, the fact that Iemitsu Sawada was never home meant that he never left anything compromising about the place. He was a careful man; he made sure he never brought his work home with him.

Tsuna obviously knew that not everything was as it seemed with his father – his excuses became more outrageous the older he got, to the point where even a six year old had to become skeptical.

He knew his father was lying about what he spent most of his time doing – but he simply did not care. He did not hate his father, not yet. Hatred would come after watching his cheerful mother's smile become slightly more forced every time his father called with some excuse as to why he could not make it home, with every melancholic glance she sent to the chair at the end of the table at meals.

His feelings, or lack thereof, towards his father meant that he had little interest in his father's occupation. Sure, he knew everything was not as it seemed; he simply didn't care. Besides, he had trouble believing his father was truly up to something very interesting, most certainly not something to do with the mafia.

So when the already-feared Kyoya Hibari cornered him during recess one day, asking questions about suspicious men in suits _who carried loaded guns_, his first thoughts were not about anything his father did.

"Why were they following you?" Hibari demanded, brandishing his weapons in a highly threatening manner for someone who hadn't yet broken the double digits.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, I swear!" Tsuna shrieked, frightened eyes staring at the tonfas that were shoved _right in his face_.

He felt the terrifying gaze of Hibari pin him down, and for a moment he could have sworn his heart had stopped. He felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes, threatening to overflow and turn him into a bumbling sobbing mess, and tried his very hardest not to cave in. Despite his six-year-old instincts, he was fairly certain that tears would only make Hibari want to bite him to death even more.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" Hibari finally muttered to himself. "Useless herbivore." He pushed himself away and stalked off, leaving a traumatized and very confused Tsuna.

He spent a good five minutes in that corner of the playground, trembling and trying his very hardest not to cry before a sympathetic passer-by went to him.

"Hey! I saw Hibari was pushing you around. Are you alright?" The boy asked, crouching next to Tsuna with a surprisingly cheerful look on his face.

Tsuna, startled, looked up at the boy with wide, slightly wary eyes. "I-I think so," He stuttered, and hesitantly began patting himself down as if to confirm that he had not, in fact, been wounded.

The boy laughed. "Well alright then! If you say so." He gave Tsuna a bright smile, something he wasn't used to receiving from the other children his age. They were barely a month into first grade and the epithet 'useless' was already starting to follow Tsuna around.

He expected the other boy to turn away and go back to whatever it was he had been doing before, good karma gained. So Tsuna was surprised again when the boy offered him a hand. "Want to come play baseball with us? We've got an odd number right now."

Tsuna stared at the boy a moment, unsure if this was another malicious prank (he'd been on the reciving end of enough of _those_ already), or if he was being truly honest. He saw no gile in the other boy's eyes, and so took a leap of faith. "Sure, sounds fun," He said, stumbling as he realized he didn't know the boy's name. "Um…"

"Takeshi," The boy grinned again. "Yamamoto Takeshi. Nice to meet you!"

* * *

So and he was able to distract himself for a few hours that afternoon, chasing after balls under the glaringly bright sun. When they lost, because Tsuna's team always lost, his teammates all grumbled and glared at him reproachfully for being the failure he felt he was. Only Yamamoto gave him a cheerful smile and offered him to play next time.

But he could not ignore Hibari's questions forever. Although he never saw the prefect again, his words always hovered at the back of his mind, a constant nagging tug. What had Hibari been talking about? He couldn't _really_ have been targeted by complete strangers, right?

He got his answer two months later, when a bullet barely missed his heart.

* * *

**A/N: Quite short for a first chapter I realize, but hopefully I'll get the other chapters to be longer. There's lots of ground to cover!**

**I'm a fan of many stories where Tsuna isn't as pathetic as he starts out in canon, but I do feel that him being more than a little useless at first really does define his character. Don't worry, powerful!Tsuna will eventually appear, and when he does it's going to be _sweet._ But first there's some things that have to happen. You know... spoiler-y things.**

**If you can spare the time, please drop me a line to tell me what you thought of this first chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

A bang.

And then the pain.

Being a child prone to far too many accidents, Tsuna was not unfamiliar with pain. He'd suffered his fair share of bruises and scraped knees. But this was not the stinging that brought tears to his eyes and sent his mother running to his side. This was alien, the foreign nature making it all the more terrifying.

His gaze drifted down, so very slowly, to his chest. There was a hole in his shirt. His shirt wasn't blue. Why was there blue?

And why... why did he feel so sleepy?

* * *

Yamamoto Takeshi had not meant to become friends with Sawada Tsunayoshi.

He was not the type to pick and choose the people he associated with. To be honest, he was more interested in swinging a baseball bat than socializing most of the time.

He had often gone to the park to play with his father, but it wasn't until the beginning of elementary school and the introduction of gym that his classmates noticed how good he really was. When he came up to bat for the first time, the gym teacher had been expecting to teach softball to a bunch of kids who had never even held a mitt in their lives. The slightly balding old man had given him a slow underhanded pitch to start him off.

The teacher had come to regret that decision after Takeshi's home run had left a sizable hole in his car's windshield.

His classmates had stared at him with open incredulity and fascination before swarming him, telling him how cool that had been and could he teach them how to do that?

Unsure of how to deal with this sudden influx of attention, Takeshi reflexively smiled at them all and laughed. "Haha, sure!"

The fanatical interest died down eventually, but Takeshi noticed a distinct difference in how he was treated. Whenever he entered the classroom, someone came up to talk to him.

His mother had taught him manners, so he smiled at each one and answered as cheerfully as he could, even when he didn't really feel like it. After a while the smile started to feel stiff on his face, the happy tone a little too dull to his ears.

It was hard, sometimes.

He was in a way jealous of Hibari. The older boy was feared, yes, but respected. People stayed out of his way, left him alone because he famously hated 'crowding'. No one ever surrounded him like they did Takeshi. No one expected him to be anything other than he was.

So when Hibari showed an interest in the quiet, often-ignored Sawada, Takeshi's curiosity was piqued. As soon as Hibari had finished with him (and not before, Takeshi wasn't _crazy_), he had approached his classmate and offered to let him join in on a game.

Sawada didn't often approach him, even after that. He seemed too nervous to get close whenever other people were hovering about, which was nearly always. If he wanted to discover what was so interesting about the boy, it appeared as if it would take no little effort on his part.

While attempting to corner Sawada during the day proved futile, the morning was another matter.

Although he was still a couple of months away from turning eight, the coach of Namimori Elementary's baseball team had allowed Takeshi to attend the team's early morning practices. He had been told (with no little regret on the coach's part) that he was simply too small to play against ten year olds yet, but the practice would help him get a head start on kids his own age. He often then found himself alone at the school after practice, it being too early for the other kids to have arrived.

Interestingly, Sawada was often the only other person in the schoolyard with him at those times. Even then he was self-contained and didn't attempt to start a conversation with him, leaving Takeshi to do all the work. When asked, Sawada always declared his early arrivals as the product of being an early bird. The slightly nervous way he constantly glanced at the entrance made Takeshi think that it was probably to avoid someone instead.

He remembered the exact day when he stopped caring about Hibari's interest in Tsuna, with frightening clarity.

They had been sitting on a bench in the schoolyard, the old one so weathered that the paint had worn away, leaving the base of greying wood exposed to the open air. It was a seat prone to give splinters to an unwary child's legs or hands, but also gave the best view of the sunrise in the early mornings.

"How did practice go?" Sawada had asked.

It hadn't gone well. The night before, he had knocked over one of the only pictures of his mother they had left in the house. It had been one of the nice frames too; the glass had shattered when it crashed into the ground, and the heavy wooden frame had cracked.

His father hadn't yelled at him, or screamed. He had just stared at the mess a moment, then told him quietly, "Go to bed, Takeshi."

The grief and disappointment in his father's voice had hurt more than any amount of chastisement ever could have. He spent half the night crying into his pillow, smothering his sobs so his father wouldn't hear. He had tried to pretend the whole event hadn't happened the next morning, but he couldn't concentrate during practice. Catches were fumbled, bases were tripped over, bats swung wildly past pitches without connecting.

As he had grown used to doing, Takeshi had laughed it all off with an easy smile, telling the coach that he must just be having an off day.

"It was fine," He had told Sawada with a grin.

Sawada hadn't grinned back. He had tilted his head to the side, almost as if he was confused. "You don't have to lie, Yamamoto-san."

His smile had fallen away, as if it had never been. He recalled staring at the small boy next to him, the blood draining from his face. "I-what do you mean, Sawada?" Takeshi had asked, choking out a laugh.

Sawada had looked down then and clasped his hands in his lap. Takeshi hadn't been able see his face, but the tips of his ears had turned red. "N-never mind." He had stuttered.

Takeshi had felt panicked then, although he hadn't understood why at the time. "Tell me," He had asked, and it had come out harsher than he had meant it to.

Sawada had flinched, but he had looked up all the same. When their eyes had met, Takeshi had noticed for the flecks of orange in them for the first time. "You just... Seemed really sad." He paused. "Sadder than usual. You don't look happy very often, Yamamoto-san."

_You don't have to lie._

For the first time, someone had noticed. Someone had cared. And it hadn't been one of the countless kids who always seemed to hover around him, who talked but never said anything, who looked but never saw.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, the quiet boy who never seemed to be able to do anything, had glanced at him and seen past everything, who even then had looked at him with open concern because he _cared_.

No judgment. No expectations.

That was when Takeshi had known he was never going to leave Tsuna's side.

* * *

Takeshi was with him then, when the attack occurred. They had been walking from school, just the two of them, heading back to the Sawada household. After that morning Takeshi had stuck to Tsuna like a burr, virtually ignoring everyone else. He found it interesting how quickly people stopped hovering around him once he struck up their friendship in earnest; apparently the stigma of hanging out with 'the most useless boy in the school' was too much even for Yamamoto's popularity.

He didn't care. Once he had cracked the shy exterior, Takeshi had discovered that Tsuna was actually rather bright and talkative, as well as being frighteningly perceptive. They got along really well, and after his first visit to Tsuna's home his mom had all but made him an honorary Sawada. He had recently taken to going to the Sawada household early before practice when he learned just how early Tsuna got up, and Momma would make the three of them a breakfast of champions.

That particular day at breakfast, she had promised the two of them a 'special surprise' when they came back after school, which had had the two of them squirming in their seats all day.

When the gun went off, he did not immediately grasp the significance of the situation. "Wow, that was a really loud firecracker, wasn't it Tsuna?" His eyes searched for the source with the childish curiosity to which he was entitled.

His eyes, sharp even at this age, caught the sight of a swiftly retreating figure clad in black. He turned excitedly to report his observation to his companion, but abruptly halted when he finally realized that Tsuna was far from okay.

"TSUNA!" He ran as fast as his seven-year old legs could carry him back to Tsuna's prone frame, falling to his knees beside him. "Tsuna, what's-" His voice caught as he noticed just how pale he had become.

"Tsuna?" Takeshi asked, gingerly and then frantically shaking his unresponsive friend. "Tsuna?! Wake up Tsuna!" Confused and frightened, Takeshi curled up into himself, rocking back and forth. "Tsuna is fine," he chanted to himself in hushed, frantic tones. "Tsuna is fine, Tsuna is fine, Tsuna is-" His voice broke on a sob. Tsuna was hurt and he didn't know what to do-

But his dad would.

The thought kicked Takeshi out of his terrified stupor. His dad knew how to fix everything! Of course he'd be able to fix Tsuna too.

His small hands fumbled through his backpack, hunting for the small silver phone his father had given him just a few weeks ago. It was supposed to only be used in emergencies, but this was an emergency, right?

He let out a shaky sigh of relief as his fingers closed on cool plastic. Everything was definitely going to be alright now.

Slightly chubby, trembling fingers punched in the digits that had been drilled into Takeshi's head a thousand times. "Hi, D-dad?" His fear tainted his words, causing him to stutter and quaver. "I-I'm at the p-park. My f-friend is hurt."

"Don't worry, I'll be right there." The cool confidence in his father's voice reassured him.

Ending the call, Takeshi was too wrapped up in himself to notice the unmistakable sounds to someone getting soundly thrashed behind him. He didn't notice a sharp order, the sound of a body being dragged away, or a slender figure dressed in black hopping over the playground's fence.

He did however feel the sharp thwack of a tonfa tapping the back of his skull. "You're an idiot," Hibari said, coming up behind him.

Takeshi flinched and instinctively half-rose to his feet, subconsciously slipping into the beginnings of a guard. This earned a half-raised eyebrow from Hibari, a faint gleam of something like approval flashing briefly through his eyes. "Too slow," he commented, rapping him sharply on the elbow, breaking his defense quickly and efficiently.

Takeshi yelped in surprise and pain, falling back down while clutching the throbbing joint. He was ignored by Hibari, who instead approached Tsuna's prone form.

"Wh-what are you doing?" He asked, crawling closer to Hibari.

Hibari ignored him. His gaze was fixed on the bullet hole in Tsuna's chest.

Where there should have been a bullet hole.

* * *

When Tsuyoshi had received a frantic phone call from his son about an injured friend, he had expected a bad sprain, a broken bone or two.

He was not prepared, therefore, for the sight of a child being bandaged (quite professionally) by an eight year old for a bullet wound.

"What the-" Tsuyoshi exclaimed, practically throwing himself out of his car in his haste to reach his son. "What happened?" He asked when he reached them, forcing himself to appear calm and in control. A panicked adult would do little to help the situation.

Takeshi looked up at his father with wide, watery eyes. "I-I don't... There was a firework and then Tsuna fell down and now h-he won't wake up..."

Tsuyoshi desperately wanted to comfort his son, but his responsibility was first to ensure the safety of the Sawada boy first. His phone was half out of his pocket to call an ambulance when a small hand stopped him. "Unnecessary. The herbivore appears to be fine."

He glanced down to a mop of black hair and equally black eyes. It took a moment, but Tsuyoshi recognized him. Kyoya Hibari was a new name around Namimori, but one that many already whispered in fear. He had been skeptical in the first place about the strength of a child who was barely out of his diapers, and this meeting did little to change his first opinion.

Hibari seemed to sense his thoughts, eyes narrowing a little more as he looked up at him. "They had a team ready for extraction once the herbivore had been incapacitated."

Tsuyoshi frowned, concern and worry growing. "A team?"

"Dealt with." Hibari replied coolly.

Tsuyoshi could not resist raising an eyebrow, but made no comment. He was certainly curious as to why someone had decided a child barely out of his diapers warranted such treatment, but that wasn't the priority at the moment.

"All the same," Tsuyoshi said, moving towards Tsuna's prone and bending over him to examine his injuries closer, "It would be safer to-"

He fell silent in shock, his hand resting on Tsuna's shoulder. They were fading quickly, but there was no mistaking it.

The boy and been knocked out with dying will flames.

He hadn't come into contact with another person's flames for several years, but there was no mistaking the sensation, especially when they were flames of the same aspect as Tsuyoshi's.

If this boy really had been incapacitated by the Flame of Tranquility, he would have to take care of this himself. While short term exposure only caused someone to be knocked unconscious, if the dying will flames were left in his system to long it could slow his heart until it stopped.

"You're right, a hospital wouldn't help him," Tsuoyshi said. He scooped the boy into his arms in one swift movement. "That's why I'll take him back to TakeSushi. Come, Takeshi."

Takeshi trailed after his father as they made their way back to the car. Surprisingly, Hibari followed as well. Tsuyoshi met his eyes in the rearview mirror when he got in, but Hibari's straightforward gaze told him that he would be coming and there was not a damn thing Tsuyoshi could do about it.

Despite the situation, his lips twitched upwards a moment as he started the car.

* * *

The drive back to TakeSushi didn't take long. This was more due to the fact that Takeshi's dad had floored the gas pedal in twenty kilometer-an-hour zones than anything else.

Takeshi was, understandably, not really all that concerned with his father's driving. All his attention was on his comatose friend. What had happened? And where had Hibari come from? _What was going on?_ All these questions and more swirled about in his mind, churning his thoughts up until he could hardly think at all.

His dad was quick to scoop up Tsuna and carry him in through the back of their restaurant as soon as they pulled up, leaving him and Hibari to trail after him. The sight of Tsuna hanging limp in his father's arms left a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Lock the doors," His dad ordered as he made to lay Tsuna down on a table. Takeshi for once did as he was told without a single question, although his hands fumbled a little on the cold metal latch. Glancing over, he noticed that Hibari had taken initiative to shutter the windows.

The task complete, he hurried back over to the side of his closest friend. Tsuna's face was even paler than before, if that was possible.

"You'll need to stand back," His dad said from the other side of the table. "I'm going to have to do something a little tricky."

Takeshi had learned a long time ago that when his father spoke in that tone of voice, you did as you were told. He stepped back. To his surprise, Hibari did as well, although his opinion on being told what to do was effectively expressed with a low grunt and a displeased expression.

His father paid him no mind, turning back to Tsuna. A small frown of concentration wrinkled his brow as his hands hovered over his chest. He breathed in, closed his eyes, and suddenly right before his very eyes blue flames started drifting up out of Tsuna's heart.

Takeshi felt his mouth drop, too surprised to even make a sound. He vaguely noticed Hibari stiffen in surprise next to him, although he didn't glance over to see if the notorious protector of Namimori was as dumbstruck as he felt.

The blue flames crept upwards slowly, lazily. They moved towards the palms of his dad's hands in the same reluctant fashion as thick mud on a hill. Movement was inevitable, but it would certainly take its sweet time about it.

The faint smell of fog, of the morning air right after a storm, drifted by his nose. Odd, it hadn't rained in days.

And they were indoors.

Today was a day for odd things.

He expected the flames to burn, to at least be hot. But not even this little fragment of science was allowed to function. When they finally crept up to kiss his dad's palms, nothing changed. His skin didn't even turn red like Takeshi's did whenever he accidentally turned the water on too hot. Instead it began to wrap itself around his hands, a long strand of blue fire connecting Tsuna to his dad and casting them both in an eerie, vivid light.

And then, like the last of a poison drawn from a wound, the fire detached itself from Tsuna's chest, completely enveloping his dad from his fingers to his wrist. Slowly, they began to sink into his skin, and eventually disappeared.

When the last of the blue flames vanished, his father slumped over and sighed heavily. Takeshi wasted no time in dashing over to his side. "Dad! Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine," His dad reassured him, reaching over and ruffling his hair in a gesture of fondness and reassurance. "I just haven't done that in a while. Your friend will be fine now."

A blur of black was all Takeshi caught as Hibari dashed past him and all but tackled his dad. Brandishing his tonfas threateningly, Hibari demanded, "What was that? _What did you do?_"

His dad raised an eyebrow. "Your parents haven't told you yet?" He didn't appear intimidated by Hibari or the weapon shoved right under his nose in the slightest.

His dad opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. A flicker of resignation crossed his features. "You're curious as well, aren't you?" He said, addressing his son.

Takeshi blushed and squirmed a little. Of course he was, but he also sensed that his father didn't really want to tell him. He didn't want to somehow disappoint his dad by pressing the issue.

His dad read his silence however, and sighed again. "Very well. If you want to know, I'll explain." He paused. "As soon as Tsuna-kun wakes up, of course. This involves him as well."

Takeshi glanced at his still-sleeping friend. Looks like they would be waiting awhile.

* * *

**AN: **Yamamoto gets a cellphone at seven because Tsuyoshi wants his son to have a way to contact him if he's ever in trouble. Just because Iemitsu isn't worried about the mafia swinging 'round Namimori doesn't mean that Tsuyoshi is as careless. Enemies from his past could show up at any time!

Sorry about the slow updates - I've been bogged down in work and exams. I was really inspired to write more when I read some of **cywscross**'s works recently though. She's one of the only authors where I've obsessively read almost every single one of her works. 'To That Faraway Sky' is to DIE for! (Shamelessly plugging? Never.)

Out of curiosity, how many people would be interested if I got a tumblr? I'd use it mostly to update people on when the stories are up and maybe to post previews - and you guys would be able to bug me about updates much easier. ;) If I get enough interest I'll post a link on my profile and tell you in the nexy chapter.


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